 |
|
9-30-09 // 9:41 pm c-14 Dear god, dating sucks. Blind dates, random dates, the idea of wandering down the street to the pub and talking to a cute woman. Getting up the nerve to talk to a looker at the gym, the coffeehouse, or the record shop. Not that I do those things with close to the regularity that I should. Even internet dating. I recently got off my ass and finished my near-mythological match.com profile and even sifting through the results of that is craptacular. It's vaguely fun, and exciting in tiny fits and bursts, but still, the odds are so daunting! Maybe it's 'cause I'm so damn picky. That has to be part of it. But wow, this process... I'm energized and happy because I actually feel like subjecting myself to the nonsense, that I'm ready, willing, able, and badly in need of some social action of the opposite gender variety. But oh hell, kill me now. What do you do, where do you live, realizing after four hours that she's never heard of Pixies, doesn't "get" the charms of San Francisco or can't live without her slobbering dog. It's a minefield. But I'm out there, very tentatively searching and defusing. I'm off work the next two days, heading up to Chicago for some much needed big city time and the Manics' first US tour in 10 years! Exact same venue and almost a decade to the day as when I saw 'em the first time. Which was my junior year of college. Wow. But yeah, I really don't know what's going on in Chi-town, save for the gig, that I have a hotel room, and that I need to get away for a little while. Maybe I'll get up to some shenanigans. Or not, who knows? But I love having that possibility sitting there. My life is such a constant struggle between the desire for order/structure/schedule and the need to break free from the same. But not too much. We shall see.
|